#bedsy

[belli5]

NINETY EIGHTᵎᵎ CB⁹⁸

╰ Synopsis You and Connor haven’t been dating for long, so you still feel shy around him. You decided to buy an 98 necklace to start feeling more open around him, and Connor absolutely loves it.

tags/contains Connor Bedard x fem!reader. Fluff, established relationship, shy reader, idk 😔, 1.2k words, requested.

➺ from Sera, to you📨. This is short but pls I’ve been writing shi I’m never gonna post; basically bec I just wanna read stuff and no one can fulfill my exact needs so I’m doing it myself 😭😭

masterlist ᥫ᭡ please reblog this fic if you enjoyed it!

You and Connor haven’t been dating for very long, so you were still a little shy when it came to anything that had to do with him.

Compliments made your cheeks burn. Wearing his jerseys made you nervous. Even holding his hand in public sometimes made you feel some things.

Most girls would have already been proudly wearing their boyfriend’s number by now, but the thought of anyone knowing how gone you were for Connor still made you nervous. You didn’t understand why he had this effect on you? he was just so him.

Even Connor didn’t fully understand it. He always made sure you felt safe and comfortable, never pushing you past what you were ready for. He’d wait patiently when you hesitated to hold his hand in front of his teammates, never complained when you changed the subject after he complimented how pretty you looked, and always asked before pulling you closer on the couch.

He was everything you could ask for in a boyfriend. But still, he couldn’t figure out why you stayed so shy around him.

He’d thought the nervousness would fade after a few weeks, the way it usually did for most people. But time had passed, and you still blushed at the smallest things. He’d brushed it off eventually, telling himself you’d open up when you were ready, since you never said anything was wrong.

Yet deep down, he wished you’d wear his stuff proudly one day.

You were wandering through the mall after grabbing a few groceries, the bag swinging lightly from your wrist. The afternoon was quite boring and you had some time to kill before heading home.

As you passed a small jewelry store tucked between a coffee shop and a clothing boutique, something made you pause. The display window sparkled with delicate pieces, and on impulse, you stepped inside.

The store smelled faintly of vanilla and polished metal. Soft lighting highlighted rows of necklaces, earrings, and charms. You wandered over to a section of tiny gold number charms designed to dangle from chains, each one elegant and understated, numbers from 0 to 9 available.

Your eyes landed on the 8 and 9 sitting side by side. They looked so simple, yet they instantly reminded you of Connor. A small smile tugged at your lips as warmth bloomed in your chest.

If you were still this shy around him, maybe it was time to take a tiny step. Wearing his number every day, could help you get comfortable with the idea of belonging to him a little more openly.

You approached the counter where a friendly older woman was arranging a tray of rings. “Hi,” you said softly. “Could I get the 8 and 9 gold charms, please? And would it be possible to put them on a thin gold necklace chain?”

The woman smiled warmly. “Of course, dear. Would you like the chain in 16 inches or 18?”

You hesitated for half a second, then nodded. “18 inches is fine. Thank you.”

You explained to the older lady how you wanted the numbers arranged. “Could you put the 9 first and then the 8 right after it, so it looks like 98 from the front?” you asked.

The woman nodded with a little smile. “Of course.” She worked quickly and carefully, attaching the tiny gold charms so they dangled side by side, the 9 and 8 forming Connor’s number perfectly. You paid and slipped the pouch into your bag.

Later that evening, you texted Connor asking if he wanted to come over for dinner, you’d promised to cook one of his favorite dishes. He replied almost instantly saying he’ll be there.

You decided on a simple blue tank top that dipped just low enough. The thin gold chain felt cool against your skin, the small 98 resting right at the center of your chest. It still made you a little shy, but you wanted him to see it.

When Connor knocked on the door, you opened it with a soft smile. He stepped inside and immediately pulled you into a warm hug, his arms wrapping around your waist as he pressed a kiss to the top of your head.

“Hey, baby,” he murmured happily.

You hugged him back for a moment before gently pulling away. “Dinner’s almost ready. I just need to finish the sauce.”

While he shrugged off his jacket and shoes, you hurried back to the kitchen. A minute later you heard his footsteps behind you. Connor walked up and wrapped his arms around your shoulders from behind, leaning down so his face tucked into the curve of your neck. He pressed a light, lingering kiss there that made you smile and tilt your head slightly.

“Mmm, smells amazing,” he said against your skin. You felt the cool metal of the necklace shift as his chin brushed it. He paused. “Put on a necklace?” he asked, the smile clear in his voice.

“Mhm,” you answered softly.

He pulled back just enough to gently turn you around to face him. His hands stayed on your waist as his eyes dropped to your chest. The moment he saw the tiny gold “98” resting against your skin, his expression changed.

Connor’s eyes widened, a genuine smile spread across his face. A faint blush crept up his cheeks as he stared at the necklace, his thumb absently brushing the side of your tank top near the chain.

He looked up at your face, eyes soft and still carrying the faint blush. “Is this for me?” he asked.

You nodded, a shy smile tugging at your own mouth. “Yeah. Do you like it?”

“Are you kidding? Of course I like it,” Connor said, letting out a small laugh as he pulled you closer into a tight hug. His arms wrapped fully around you, one hand gently cradling the back of your head while the other rested at the small of your back. “I hope you never take it off.”

“I didn’t plan on it,” you murmured against his chest, the words muffled but sincere. The necklace sat warm between you now.

He pulled back just enough to look at you again, his hands still on your waist. “You know.. I think you look even better with the 98 than I do.”

You let out a laugh, shaking your head. “How could anyone look better than the OG?”

“I dunno..” Connor shrugged lightly. “I never thought someone could, but you proved me wrong.”

The compliment made your cheeks heat up, but you couldn’t stop the small laugh that escaped. You turned back toward the stove to stir the sauce, trying to hide how flustered you felt. Connor stayed right behind you, arms loosely around your middle again.

“Seriously, thank you,” he said, voice dropping softer. “It looks so good on you. I don’t understand why you’re so shy when it comes to me. I’m just a guy.”

You glanced over your shoulder at him. “Yeah, just Connor Bedard.”

He chuckled warmly at that, the sound rumbling close to your ear. Then he leaned in, pressing a gentle kiss to your cheek. The kiss lingered for a moment before he slowly trailed it toward your lips.

His mouth met yours in a sweet, unhurried kiss. One of his hands came up to cup your jaw tenderly as he deepened it just a little, pouring all the happiness and warmth he felt into that single touch.

TAGLIST: @cheerymints @lynsdigitaljournal @behindthescreenobsessed @lemsies25 @definitelynotdomanique @lcvlyhughesy @sh1ft1ng1234 @willsmiths2 @mintbrini98 @kazansky-slxt @siennaluvshcky @val413 @wherethezoes-at @macka @nkewstkn @carlottawllms @Blankenbirks @probably--possessed @celebrinigf @postgamevibes @icetimedreamer @alexxavicry @sohhh09 @thejordiverse @misslivinglegend @goaldengay @umm-ok-fine @idkwhatthisis2009 @miyasfatass @0717luv @downtownjulie @feellikeimphoebe @asteria33 @cccassiopeia @mrsbedard @valintheafterlight @meglovesmclaren

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[pretty-g1rl-avenue]

Neighbors

Connor Bedard x Reader

wc: 1.6k

Summary: When a cute guy moves across the hall from you, you take notice, especially because he carries a huge bag everywhere and seems to work odd hours.

Part 2

You first noticed him because of the huge duffel bag he’s always carrying. Honestly it makes him kinda of hard to miss.

He moved into the apartment across the hall a few months ago. Lean with dark hair usually tucked under a baseball cap, and always carrying an enormous black duffel bag at odd hours. He carried it in a way that looked effortless that made you wonder what the hell was inside it.

At first, you assumed he was just a student, maybe one on a serious athletic scholarship, or someone with an unusually busy commute. You didn’t care enough to investigate.

⊱ —————- °.•　⋅ʚ♡ɞ⋅　•.° —————— ⊰

The first interaction happened by chance. You were standing against the elevator wall, earbuds in, scrolling through emails, when he stepped in, balancing a bag that looked like it could fit a small child.

“Morning,” you said automatically, glancing up.

He nodded briefly, eyes still hidden under the brim of his baseball cap. “Hey.”

The elevator hummed softly. You looked at him again. “You move in recently?”

He looked at you, and for a second you thought he was going to ignore the question. Instead, he gave a small shrug. “A couple months ago.”

“Cool. I’m down the hall,” you said, trying to sound friendly.

“Nice. I’m… yeah, same,” he said. He gave a polite little smile.

The two of you rode the rest of the way in silence, the elevator ticking floor by floor. When the doors opened, he stepped out, muttering a quiet, “See you around,” and disappeared down the hallway, leaving you staring after him for a moment longer than necessary.

⊱ —————- °.•　⋅ʚ♡ɞ⋅　•.° —————— ⊰

It was a Wednesday evening the next time you saw him. You were coming back to the building from dinner with a friend when you noticed him struggling with a massive duffel and a few bags of groceries.

“Do you need a hand with that?” you asked, tilting your head.

He glanced at you, surprised, then gave a small, tired smile. “Uh… yeah, that would be great.”

You grabbed two of the grocery bags and matched pace with him as he carried the duffel.

“Wow,” you said, trying not to stumble. “How do you…carry all that?”

He laughed softly. “Lots of practice. Not that it’s perfected yet.”

“You’re doing fine,” you said, smiling.

Once you reached his door, you set the bags down.

“Thanks,” he said, adjusting the duffel. “I owe you one.”

You waved it off. “No, I’m just happy to help.”

He grinned faintly. “Well…thank you..”

And just like that, he disappeared inside his apartment, leaving you on your own in the hallway.

⊱ —————- °.•　⋅ʚ♡ɞ⋅　•.° —————— ⊰

A week later, the roles were reversed. You were juggling a gallon of milk, a bag of vegetables, a loaf of bread, and a couple other bags in the elevator. When the doors opened on your floor, there he was, clearly waiting for the elevator.

“Hey,” he said casually. “Need a hand?”

You blinked. “Oh, no, if you have to go somewhere, don’t worry about it.”

“It’s no worry, I’ve got a minute. Besides, I still owe you one.” He joked

You laughed at that and he grabbed a couple bags from your arms. He carried them for you as you made your way to your door. Once you got it unlocked, you opened it fully and gestured toward the counter.

“Here, set it down,” you said.

He stepped in, carefully placing everything on the kitchen counter.

“Thanks,” you said, smiling. “I would have definitely dropped something if it weren’t for you.”

“Anytime,” he said, his voice steady, the kind of calm that made it easy to talk to him.

Just then, your roommate appeared from her bedroom, scrolling on her phone. She froze mid-step, staring at him.

“Oh my god…” she whispered.

You glanced at her, confused. “What?”

She looked at him, eyes wide. “Connor Bedard?”

He froze for a moment, awkward, almost like he’d been caught sneaking into the building. “Uh… hi,” he said quietly, scratching the back of his head.

You frowned. “Connor…who?”

Alanna turned toward you, grinning uncontrollably. “You don’t know? Connor Bedard! The NHL player! The Blackhawks!”

Your jaw dropped slightly. “Oh…wow. I… I didn’t realize.”

He gave a small, embarrassed smile, looking down at the floor. “Yeah… that’s me.”

You felt a little awkward but tried to stay normal. “Right. Okay. Nice. Well… thanks again for the help with the groceries.”

“Of course,” he said. “Happy to help. Anytime.”

As he left, your roommate rambled on about hockey, stats, and goals, but you found yourself tuning her out and instead thinking about the neighbor you’d been seeing across the hall, who carried giant bags, smiled quietly, and seemed entirely human.

⊱ —————- °.•　⋅ʚ♡ɞ⋅　•.° —————— ⊰

A few days after the grocery incident, Connor knocked on your door, looking unusually casual in a hoodie and sweatpants, no big bag in sight.

“Hey,” he said, smiling at you. “I was thinking… since you now know who I am, maybe you’d want to…watch a game with me?”

You raised an eyebrow. “A game… like, of hockey?”

“Yeah,” he said, grinning lightly. “I know you don’t watch hockey, and that’s fine. But I can explain it. Like…step by step. If you want. No pressure. Just…you and me.”

You hesitated, trying to picture sitting through a hockey game with a professional player.

“You’re serious?”

“Totally,” he said. “You can leave anytime. Or even just sit quietly and eat snacks. I promise I'll try to make it not boring.”

You laughed lightly, shaking your head. “Okay… sure. I’ll come over. But I get to pick the snacks.”

He raised his hands in surrender. “Deal.”

⊱ —————- °.•　⋅ʚ♡ɞ⋅　•.° —————— ⊰

Later that day you knocked on his door, and he opened the door immediately, stepping aside to let you in.

“Hey,” he said. “Make yourself comfortable.”

His apartment was surprisingly normal. A few framed jerseys, a neatly arranged shelf of books and board games, and a large TV. His hockey bag was tucked into a corner with a few hockey sticks leaning on the wall next to it.

“Coffee?” he asked, already reaching for mugs.

“Sure,” you said, setting your grocery bag down and taking out the snacks you brought.

Trail mix, some candy, and popcorn. He raised an eyebrow at the assortment.

“Good choices.”

You thanked him and sat on the couch, the game paused for a commercial, as he leaned against the coffee table, remote in hand.

“Okay,” he said, “here’s the deal. I’ll explain what’s going on, and you can ask as many questions as you want at anytime. Got it?”

“Got it,” you replied.

He pointed at the players warming up on the ice. “See those guys? They pass the puck, trying to score. The goalie is obvious… your main obstacle to scoring a goal. Lines are rotations of players that change every few minutes.”

You nodded, trying to absorb it all. “Lines rotate… okay. Got it.”

“Power plays are the fun part,” he said, smiling slightly. “When one team has more players because someone got penalized. That’s usually when the game gets interesting.”

“All right, that sounds cool.” You smirked, glancing at him. “You make it sound way more fun than the commentators do.”

He laughed softly. “They make it sound dramatic. I’m just trying to make it understandable.”

During a commercial, you handed him a cup of popcorn.

“You know,” you said, “it’s weird thinking about you being famous. You seem so normal.”

He grinned, taking a bite. “Yeah. I like knowing you like this. Less pressure.”

“Less pressure for you, sure. But for me, it’s weird. I feel like I should be impressed or… I don’t know. Starstruck or something.”

He shook his head. “Please don’t be. You’ve already been super normal about all of this, which is… rare.”

You smiled at that. As the game went on, he explained little things: why the puck moved the way it did, how players anticipated each other, why a certain play was smart. You asked questions and occasionally made jokes about the commentators, and he laughed at your observations.

After the second period, you stretched your legs, and he got up to refill drinks.

“You know,” you said quietly, “this is actually… fun. I didn’t think I’d say that about hockey.”

He looked at you, a faint smile on his face. “Good. That was the goal. Not to convert you into a fan… just to make it…enjoyable.”

You nodded, feeling a little glow of warmth in the quiet apartment, the city lights faintly glowing outside the window.

When the game ended, you gathered your things to leave.

“Thanks,” you said. “For letting me… sit through all that.”

He shrugged casually, still smiling. “Anytime. You made it fun.”

“Yeah, okay,” you said, laughing lightly. “Next time, I get to pick the game snacks again.”

“Deal,” he said, grinning.

As you walked back to your apartment across the hall, you realized it didn’t matter that he was Connor Bedard, NHL first pick. To you, he was still your neighbor, the one who carried huge duffle bags, explained hockey like it was simple, and somehow made a game you didn’t care about into something fun and easy to enjoy.

[puckbunny98]

saw this on my tl and felt it was too cute to keep to myself 😭

per @/leafslesbian on twt

[abbydianereads]

Mostly In One Piece

prompt: After news breaks of Connor's injury while training in Vancouver, you book the next flight out, functioning on pure panic and adrenaline until you know that he's alright.

pairing: Connor Bedard x gf!reader

content: injury talk, cursing, angst, fluff

wc: 1.7k

a/n: idk if y'all have been as stressed about his injury as I have, but this story was born from that stress LOL. fingers crossed he's doing okay.

Summers were no longer your favorite season. When you were younger, it meant the absence of school, playing outside till the street lamps turned on, having slumber parties with your friends on weeknights. Now it meant your boyfriend's yearly trip back to his hometown of Vancouver, where he trained for the offseason. 

When you and Connor had begun dating, it was during his rookie year with the Blackhawks. You were in your freshman year at DePaul University when you stumbled into him–literally–while out for a morning jog. The rest was history. The first time he flew back to Vancouver for the offseason, you waved goodbye at the airport, doing your best to keep the tears at bay. At least, until he had rounded a corner and disappeared from sight. Then, you let them slip silently down your cheeks, because he was going to be gone for three and a half months before returning for training camps in September. 

You’d never been in a long distance relationship before, and you had to admit it might have been one of the hardest things you’d ever done. The time differences paired with the thousands of miles between you was enough to make any couple split. But the two of you? You made it work. 

Now, you were on your third summer of long distance with Connor. It sucked.

You hadn’t wanted to ask him that question that was always floating around your mind: what if he trained for the off season in Chicago? You knew he cherished his time at home, seeing childhood friends and old teammates, getting to spend more time with his family. As much as he hated leaving you, he was also excited to move back to Vancouver for a few months. You didn’t want to take that away from him. Besides, you’d done two summers of it already. How hard could a third one be? 

Over the years, you’d only been out to Vancouver twice during the off seasons. Once the first summer, and once the second, both for a week long. It was a beautiful city, you could see why Connor was happy there. And you loved his family too. They were always so welcoming, treating you like one of their own. 

So it wasn’t out of the ordinary to see a text from Maddie pop up on your phone. The two of you were almost always texting back and forth, and you were beyond ecstatic to have found a friend in her. 

What was out of the ordinary, however, was the message itself. 

Maddie: Connor got hurt at practice today. It’s bad.

Within ten minutes, you had bought a ticket for the next flight out to Vancouver and had your suitcase splayed on your bed, shoving in clothing items without bothering to fold them. You had visions of Connor being crushed against the board and falling unconscious, of him being trampled completely by another player, of blood covering the ice. 

Maddie hadn’t responded to any of your frantic texts following hers, asking for details before informing her that you were on your way.

Your heart raced as news of his injury spread across social media. Headlines began popping up one after another, each one more dramatic than the last. Connor still hadn't responded to any of your texts, and every minute that passed tightened the knot in your stomach.

You were in line for security at the airport when he finally responded. 

Connor 🩷: Hi baby Connor 🩷: I’m okay Connor 🩷: Well, not okay okay Connor 🩷: But okay 

You: I’m already at the airport.

Connor 🩷: Wait Connor 🩷: What?

You: Boarding starts in half an hour.

Connor 🩷: Baby Connor 🩷: You didn’t have to do that

You: I’ll see you tonight.

By the time you had landed in Vancouver, the sun had set and it was nearing midnight back in Chicago. You fought a yawn as you pulled your suitcase down from the overhead bin and made your way down the aisle, powering your phone back on as you went. 

You had a stream of texts from your parents, your friends, even some of Connor’s teammates, asking for any updates. 

You hated not knowing what was going on. The weight of the unknown sat on your chest, pressing down until it felt like you couldn’t breathe. 

The entire flight, you hadn’t been able to pay attention to the movie flickering on the screen built into the back of the chair in front of you. You were functioning on autopilot while your brain panicked. 

That was when another text came through, one of your friends forwarding you a video posted on Twitter. You clicked it open, eyes widening as you realized it was footage of Connor’s accident. You worried your bottom lip between your teeth, eyes wide as you watched him go down, landing hard on his shoulder. Your breath hitched. He pushed up almost immediately, abandoning his stick on the ice. Connor was bent over, clutching his left arm as he pushed himself off the ice, and then the video ended. 

You stepped off the plane and onto the jet bridge, shoving your phone into your pocket with nearly shaking hands. 

The memory of him doubled over in pain replayed in your mind over and over again as you made your way out of the airport and to your waiting Uber. 

By the time the Uber turned onto Connor’s street, you felt nauseous, unsure about what you were about to walk into. You didn’t even know if he was home. He could be at some special hospital surrounded by surgeons for all you knew. 

All you knew was that you needed to set your eyes on him.

You couldn’t rest until you saw that he really was okay. 

You murmured a distracted ‘thank you’ to the driver before climbing out, lugging your suitcase behind you as you made your way up the driveway towards that familiar front door.

It opened before you could even raise your fist to knock, Melanie Bedard standing on the other side.

“Hi, honey.” 

Seeing Connor’s mother’s soft smile eased something within you, but it wasn’t quite enough.

“Is he-”

“He’s here, come on in.” 

She brought you into a quick hug, giving you a tight squeeze that you relished as you tried to remind yourself to breathe. 

You walked farther into Connor’s childhood home, eyes scanning for him. 

And then there he was, nestled into the couch, left arm in a tight sling. He looked up immediately, some sort of relief settling in his eyes as he took you in. 

For a moment, the two of you just stared at each other. You felt your stomach settle, the tightness in your chest release, your heart calm as you took him in. 

He was there, in front of you, mostly in one piece. 

“Hi, baby,” he said softly, moving to push himself up off the couch. He’d already pushed the blanket off his lap, like he’d been waiting to hear the front door open.

And, now that you knew he was okay, you felt a new emotion take place. 

“You asshole,” you gritted out, eyes squeezing shut as Connor moved towards you.

Connor faltered, frozen midstep, eyes widening. “Uh, what?” 

“You could have texted me!” You crossed your arms over your chest. “I don’t hear anything from you. Maddie is the one to tell me, which–” you paused, turning your head to look at Connor’s sister who had entered the room, wearing a small smirk. “Thank you by the way.” 

She shrugged, grinning.

You turned back to Connor. “I had no idea what was happening, or how bad it was. You scared me.” 

Connor’s eyes softened. “I didn’t mean to.” And then, “there was so much happening at once, I just couldn’t get to my phone.”

Before you could second-guess yourself, you closed the distance between you. Your arms slipped carefully around his waist, avoiding the sling, and your forehead rested against his uninjured shoulder. The tears you'd somehow managed to hold back all day finally spilled over.

“I’m glad you’re okay,” you mumbled, taking a moment to breathe in his familiar scent. 

His arm came around you, pulling you closer. You felt him breathe a sigh of relief, and you knew that being together again was easing you as much as it was easing him. 

“Does it hurt?” You asked, pulling back slightly and scrubbing the tears from your cheeks with the back of your hand. 

Your eyes searched his as he shrugged with his good shoulder, ever the picture of nonchalance.

“It’s not too bad,” 

“He’s had enough pain meds to take out a horse,” Maddie quipped, causing you to smile. Connor rolled his eyes, his arm still wrapped around you. 

Your boyfriend leaned in, pressing his lips to your temple in a soft kiss. 

“You didn’t have to, but I’m glad you’re here.” 

You shook your head. “It was better for everyone involved that I see you alive for myself,” you joked. “I was on a bit of a war path.” 

You spent the rest of the night settling in with the Bedards. Tom took your suitcase to Connor’s room before joining the rest of you in the family room. They filled you in on everything—the awkward collision at practice, the emergency room visit, the scans, the surgery he'd need in a few days, and the possibility that he'd miss the start of the season. 

Connor stayed mostly quiet through it all, absentmindedly rubbing his thumb against your shoulder.

With every sentence, you felt yourself relax just a little more. Connor was beside you, his good arm tucked around your shoulders. He was hurt, but he would be okay. He would heal.

While getting ready for bed, Connor appeared behind you in the bathroom, his eyes finding yours in the mirror.

“I love you, you know.” His voice was soft, exhausted from a terribly long day. 

You turned, leaning your back against the counter so that you could look at him properly. 

“I know,” you smiled, and he rolled his eyes. “I love you too.” 

“Thank you for being here.” 

“I’ll always be here.”

[anisa-vrse]

Whole Foods

pairing: Connor Bedard x reader word count: 1.6K

You had just moved to Chicago, settling into your new apartment near West Loop. The timing of everything was crazy, new apartment, flying out of state to go visit family it was like a mini vacation. 

Here you are, fridge empty, no snacks in the pantry, nothing. So a trip to Whole Foods is your main priority. The walk wasn’t too bad- a good 10 minutes away. When you finally reach Whole Foods you check your phone.

You scroll through the grocery list you made- just a few items you need to make something, to have just anything. 

Broccoli, tomato, sweet potatoes

Berries, Pears, Dates

Chicken, steak

Maybe pasta

Slowly but surely, you crossed everything off one by one. Now you’re just walking around aimlessly in the store, seeing if anything new catches your eye, if anything looks yummy to snack on, and there it is a garlic and chive goat cheese spread.

And instantly it’s in your basket, and to pair with it, you think sweet potato chips. You’re walking down the chip aisle, excited to try the combination you envisioned in your head to be amazingly satisfying, the crunch of the chip mixed with the creaminess of the spread. It’s just perfect.

You spot the chips on the very top shelf. Not a problem, you think and you reach up, stretching onto your tiptoes. Your finger manages to graze the bag, and you push the bag even further.

“Fuck” you mutter to yourself, glancing around the aisle. It’s empty. Great.

Your shoulders slump, and you walk slowly, peeking your head out to see who’s in the next aisle over a few elderly women short like you, a grandpa here, and a family too busy handling their own kids. You're searching for someone taller than you, approachable.

A few aisles later, you circle back to the produce section, exchanging your spread for a much colder one, and you spot someone. A guy standing by the pre-packaged food, looking down at his phone like he was searching for something.

He’s wearing a white baseball cap, a plain white shirt, black shorts, and, surprisingly, a pair of slides and white socks.

Huh. Socks and sandals. They don’t look that bad on him. The most important thing is that he looked tall, way taller than you. So you approach him.

"Hi, excuse me... do you think you could help me reach something off the top shelf?"

He looked up from his phone, glancing around before he answers you "...Uh, sure."

He slips his phone into his pocket and follows you back to the chip aisle.

You point toward the shelf.

"It's just those sweet potato chips. I pushed them too far back for me to grab."

He reaches up without even stretching, pulling the bag forward, and hands it to you.

"Here you go."

"Thanks."

You place the chips into your basket before glancing into his.

Three containers of avocado and a pack of dates…interesting

He noticed you looking and laughed.

"Uhh, just grabbing a few things...you've got a lot more groceries than I do. They all fit in that basket?"

"Just barely," you smile. “ I just got back from visiting family, so I had to do a mandatory grocery run… gonna make a steak for dinner”

"Oh cool that sounds good"

“Yea can’t go wrong with a good ol’ steak”

"How do you make it? I've been trying to cook more."

"It's honestly super easy—"

Before you could explain, a couple excited voices echoed from the end of the aisle.

"Oh my God!"

"Connor!"

You both turn, two kids, wearing a Chicago Blackhawks jersey with BEDARD 98 stitched across the back come walking toward him waving their hands.

"No way, it's actually Connor Bedard!"

The guy who helped you grab your chips lets out a soft sigh as he smiles waving at them 

"Hey, guys"

"Can we please get a picture with you please?"

"Of course."

You blink….Connor... Bedard? The name meant absolutely nothing to you…

"Here," you offer, setting your basket on the floor. "I can take the pictures for you guys"

The kid excitedly hands you his phone and stands next to Connor.

You snap a couple photos of each of them standing beside him, grinning from ear to ear.

"Thanks, Connor!"

"Good luck this season!"

The two kids wave goodbye, looking at the photo on the phone, still talking about how they met Connor Bedard and how unreal it is.

"Soo...you’re an athlete?" you say as you pick your basket up again.

“Yea I play hockey for the Blackhawks ”

“Oh very cool” you smile and nod your head

"You don't watch hockey?" he looks surprised 

"Not really…sorry" you say scratching the back of your head.

You see the kids peek again around the aisle pointing at him. Connor lets out a small laugh.

"They're always so excited."

"I think you made their day."

He rubs the back of his neck.

You smile at him “It was nice meeting you Connor, thank you again for the help”

“Yea no problem, I didn’t get your name?”

“Oh right” you laugh “It’s y/n”

“y/n” he repeats “the uh steak how are you gonna cook it?”

"Well, I always season my steak first, get a really good crust on it, then baste it with butter, fresh rosemary, and garlic," you explain. Connor listens with genuine interest, occasionally glancing over at you as you two walk through the store, grabbing a few more items.

Your basket grows heavy the next time you place it down to grab something. He picked it up for you, and he ends up carrying your basket along with his as you both walk over to the meat section.

You stop in front of the display case pointing through the glass 

"Sirloin is a solid everyday steak. It's leaner, flavorful, and usually pretty affordable. Ribeye has a lot more marbling, so it's richer and more tender. Tri-tip is great if you're feeding a few people, and chuck roast is what I'd grab for something like pot roast since it gets incredibly tender after cooking low and slow."

Connor nods thoughtfully, following your finger as you point out each cut.

“I usually go with a sirloin but when I want to treat myself I get this” you smile tapping at the glass in front of another package “Filet mignon, ridiculously tender, highly recommended”

"So you're basically a steak expert."

"I wouldn't go that far," you said with a grin. "I just really like cooking. And I watch a lot of Food Network"

Your conversation with Connor drifted naturally, you just kept talking and he just kept listening. You talked about using cast-iron skillets versus grilling or even smoking meat, letting the steak rest before slicing into it. You both talked about different sides that you like paired with your steaks. 

Eventually you two slowly made your way through the rest of the store, reaching the checkout lanes. 

Connor set his basket onto the conveyor behind yours, and as the cashier began scanning your groceries, his eyes wandered over the items you'd picked out.

You're looking at the screen mentally noting how much you're spending. As the total flashes across the screen and the cashier is stacking your basket, you're moving to grab your wallet out of your purse when Connor says “it’s all together” and the cashier just nods and starts scanning his few items adding them to yours.

You glance over at him with your wallet now in hand “What- what are you doing?”

Connor just casually slides his card toward the terminal, paying for everything. 

You blink a few times “Why’d you do that? You didn’t need to do that?”

Connor just laughs, looking over at you with a sheepish smile. “ I know, I wanted to… consider it a thank you for all the advice”

As the receipt prints and the cashier finishes bagging the items. Connor is quick to reach them, grabbing them by the handle and carrying all three of them, his eyes ushering you to start walking.

The two of you stepped outside together, the sunsetting. 

“Let me carry at least one of them” you reach for one, and he moves it away from you 

“They’re already in my hands, just lead the way where’s your car?”

“I don’t have a car I walked here”

“Oh” Connor shifts the bags from one hand to the other handing you yours, he rubs the back of his neck, glancing around before looking back at you.

“Thanks again for the advice about the steak”

“Thank you for grabbing my chips”

You two just stand there for a moment looking at each other then glancing around as people walk by and the sunset starts to set even more.

“I should get going, don’t want to walk around in the dark with my hands full”

“Right…”

“It was nice meeting you Connor, good luck with the steak and your hockey season” You smile at him one last time before walking to your apartment.

Back at your apartment you placed the groceries on your counter, organizing them and putting them away. You take a long hot shower not believing the interaction you had at a Whole Foods. Then it dawns on you. You finish your shower and eagerly step out wrapping a towel around you.

Grabbing your phone lying on your bed, you type into instagram Connor Bedard. And you follow him. Nothing happens, you’re not sure what you were expecting to happen within less than 5 minutes. So you look him up on YouTube. Connor Bedard several videos pop up

My Path to Chicago | Connor Bedard

Every Single One of Connor Bedard's NHL Goals...So Far

CONNOR BEDARD End of Season Highlights

You spend the next 2 hours watching his highlights and Every Shift episodes when your phone hits you with the 20% or low power mode option. You sigh and stand up, plugging your phone in to charge, and you go get properly dressed.

You head to the kitchen, opening the fridge and grabbing the garlic and chive goat cheese spread along with your sweet potato chips that were in the small pantry.

The combination is just as you pictured, and you enjoy them happily. You go back to your room to check how much your phone charged, and you see the instagram notification

_connorbedard sent you a message.

a/n: I have been loving so much of the CB98 x readers that I read on Tumblr there are so many talented writers. If any of you want to be friends pls feel free to message me! I'd love to share ig reels/ edits of Connor, and it would just be nice to have more friends to talk about the nhl with - Love Anisa <3

[eklvnd]

Everyone loves Bratlin celebrini but lord forbid a boy is a brat full time and all of a sudden he’s evil

[mitekor]

[scelebrini]

CB98.||connor bedard.

fluff.

connor’s slammed and you take care of him.

My phone rang, a call from Frank. I looked at the time and paused my show: 11:45 PM.

"Hi, Franky," I said, looking at the FaceTime call.

"Hey, Y/N, look at your boyfriend," he laughed, flipping the camera. It showed Connor sitting in a chair at the bar, completely gone, barely holding himself up while the boys crowded around him.

"OMG." My hand covered my mouth.

"Frank, how much did he drink?" I asked, concerned.

"We won, Y/N! He’s celebrating," he chuckled, as Connor’s eyes barely opened.

"Celebrating? He’s in a different dimension," I corrected him.

One of the older guys spoke into the phone. "Y/N, wanna come get him, or want us to bring him home in about two hours?" he asked.

"I’ll come get him." Two hours was too long. He nodded and leaned into Connor, telling him if he wants me to come get him, which he responded to by biting his bottom lip and nodding unsteadily, then saying a simple, "Yup."

I pouted at him then hung up, putting a hoodie and slides on, leaving my shorts on and getting into my car, driving to Connor’s location.

I arrived and parked in the parking lot, walking in and finding them at the same spot I'd seen on FaceTime.

All the boys got happy when they saw me cheering. I smiled and stood beside Connor.

"Let's go home, baby." I rubbed my hand on his leg.

"Yup," he said, not moving.

"Come on, you have to stand up, okay? I’m going to help you," I said, grabbing his hands.

"Yup, you have to kiss me first." His eyes looked up at me, and he licked his lips, making them wet.

I kissed him, but he still stayed sitting.

"Connor, can you not stand?" I tried getting him up again.

He leaned sideways, almost falling out of the chair, and one of the guys grabbed him, standing him up. Someone else grabbed his other side and helped me, bringing him to the car.

I unlocked the car and opened the passenger door as they put him in. I thanked them as they left, and I buckled him in, closing the door.

"Too much to drink, baby?" I asked, opening the window so he could get some air.

He nodded, sucking on his bottom lip and leaning into me.

"Hold me." He tried raising his arm but failed. I took his hat off him, putting it on my dashboard.

"I have to drive, okay? When we get home." I rubbed his hand, pulling off.

I drove with one hand on the wheel, leaving the other one in his lap for him to hold.

"Can I have your phone?" I asked him, feeling it in his pocket.

"Mhm." His head dropped, not being able to hold it up.

I leaned over, taking his phone and placing it in the cup holder with mine, then tried holding his head, propping it up on the window. He grabbed my hand that was in his lap, putting it under his shirt and holding it on his stomach before rubbing it in circles.

I scrunched my brows and looked at him as I pulled into the condo's parking lot.

"What’s wrong, baby? Does your tummy hurt?" I asked him while unbuckling. He made sure my hand stayed. He didn't answer, only kept sucking on his bottom lip.

I leaned over, unbuckling him, then getting out of the car. I opened the door, looking at him. How the hell was I going to get him inside?

"Okay, baby, you're gonna have to help me out. I can’t carry you, there’s no way," I reached in to help him out, putting our phones in my hoodie.

He shook his head, finally letting his bottom lip go; it was wet and swollen, pinker than usual.

I locked the car doors, then let him out, taking as much weight as I could hold onto me.

It took a while, but we finally got in the elevator.

"Dizzy," he grabbed onto me.

"You're okay, I promise," I told him as we got out, walking to our door. I opened it and let us in, placing him in our room.

I took his shoes off and his shorts, leaving him in boxers and his top.

"Hot." He tried pulling the shirt over his head; I giggled and took it off for him.

"Let’s use the bathroom," I asked, hearing his stomach make noises. The last thing I needed was vomit.

I helped him up and to the bathroom in our room, holding him over the toilet and rubbing his back as some of the liquor from that night came out. I flushed the toilet and cleaned his mouth, making him gurgle water and then mouthwash.

Once we got in bed, I turned the lights off, only leaving the bathroom light on and the fan on, too. He came closer to me, putting my hand on his stomach again, and I rubbed it the whole night until I fell asleep.

•guys i really need requests feel free to comment them!!!